Sometimes a lantern moves along the night, 
That interests our eyes. And who goes there? 
I think; where from and bound, I wonder, where, 
With, all down darkness wide, his wading light? 

Men go by me whom either beauty bright
In mould or mind or what not else makes rare: 
They rain against our much-thick and marsh air 
Rich beams, till death or distance buys them quite. 

Death or distance soon consumes them: wind 
What most I may eye after, be in at the end
I cannot, and out of sight is out of mind. 

Christ minds: Christ?s interest, what to avow or amend 
There, éyes them, heart wánts, care haúnts, foot fóllows kínd,
Their ránsom, théir rescue, ánd first, fást, last friénd.